The Chronicles of First Men - House Mudd
by NikHighlander
Summary: Follow in the footsteps of Mudd House on your quest and fight to face the Riverlands Andal Invasion. This is the first story in a series that will be written from First Men Houses.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my new fanfic. Hope you enjoy, leave your recommendations and comments. Let's go to some addenda.**

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** of Justice**

The Andals were gathering. This was the news that reached the court and caused panic in the hearts of the lords. If it were a normal Andal army, people would not be so desperate, but this was the largest Andal army that had ever been formed to conquer the Riverlands. Tristifer IV Mudd, was known to have won 99 battles during his lifetime, and the most important against the Andals, preventing the decline of his house before the Andal Tide that invaded Westeros with the aim of conquering the continent for their Seven Gods.

In addition to being the largest army ever seen in the Riverlands, other factors were against it. Tristifer had lost many lords who could not resist the invaders, shrinking his troops, and their commander was Armistead Vance, a powerful Andal lord, known not only for being a great warrior, but also for his lack of mercy on those who faced him, he was a man who had Tristifer's reluctant respect, but could not let respect disrupt judgment at the moment. The situation was terrible and damned, but as a king it was his duty to show confidence and steadfastness in the most terrifying of situations, and Tristifer would not be overwhelmed by the notion of death and destruction that this army represented.

\- My lords peace. I summon the lords who are here in Oldstones for a meeting, immediately in my office, my nobles, fear nothing. We will weather this storm together and prevail against our enemies. – Tristifer had pushed his fear and fear deep into his heart, had no time for those thoughts, not as he was approaching the fiftieth day of his name, had defeated knights, lords, rebels, fanatics and kings during his life, had fought against renowned and powerful men, and never cringed at them, he knew he was a living legend, but with that army his hundredth battle was coming, and if he lost it, his whole house would be extinguished, for he was sure the Andals would show no mercy to their descendants and family members, only misfortune awaited if they lost.

The king entered the room first, but soon Blackwood, Wayn, Ryger, Goodbrook, Mallister, and others filled the room in various reactions on their faces, though none seemed willing to speak while some servants handed out glasses of wine, It was only when the last of them left the room that Lord Ethan Ryger burst out in his high-pitched shrill voice, causing Tristifer to feel headaches almost instantly.

\- My king. We should try a dialogue with them, we are surpassed in numbers and resources, an attempt at diplomacy is needed at this time. – the man's despair was so tangible that the king feared the man would do his basic needs in his own pants, it was a shame, since his grandfather had been such a brave and bold man, always standing with Tristifer in battle, until it fell by a stray arrow that hit his eye.

\- We must immediately march against them, my lord, not listening to this cowardly dog, let us attack the Andalos now and subdue them by the surprise and strength of the River men. – in contrast to Ryger's fear was to Thorgan Goodbrook's excessive bravery, he was a good man and loyal but too bold and out of season, their advice was complete opposite and extreme, however Tristifer disliked extreme measures at all or thoughtless, had not made his name for acting like an irresponsible brat.

\- Shut up, kids. They're getting on my nerves. If we were to follow their advice we would be annihilated one way or another, use that little brain the gods gave them, still stink the urine and want to scream and give orders on a board of experienced men. – this was Robin Haigh, a bitter and sour old man who had lost many, many relatives during the invasion of the Andals, that made him one of their greatest enemies and one of those who most cursed their existence. man, but that talk of him broke out a big discussion in the meeting room with the gentlemen shouting and pointing fingers and cursing loudly, the subject practically neglected, as their personal quarrels surfaced, the king despised it at all heart.

\- Enough. – only one word came out of the king's mouth and all the men fell silent looking at Tristifer. Despite the age difference between the majority, he could see in everyone respect for his position and who he was, that was good, if they admired him they would follow his orders well.

\- I think the Andals don't want to talk, forgive me for their arrogance, but we've beaten them countless times, been humiliated and broken. Their only hope is to defeat us and then to wipe out the entire Mudd line to show the strength of their Seven Gods. I don't mean to hide or humiliate myself for some damn stranger who knows nothing about Isle of Faces, the Eye of God, and our sacred woods, that's unacceptable. – Tristifer would not go around, would expose everything he thought and thought to these men, because it had always been true and straight with their vassals, they deserved it, they needed to know what was waiting for them if they followed and lost, because it implied many things that would cause severe damage to certain homes.

\- What do we do then, your grace? – A lord who was not in sight asked, the king identified in his voice a little fear and insecurity, something normal in that situation.

\- We do what we did before, we fight them. – answered directly, which brought a buzz among the lords, some insecure, some hopeful, some fearful, but Tristifer would not let any of that influence him, after all he had long been king to allow certain things to affect him, even those that could end your family and culture.

\- They say they are gathering in the Eye of God, their grace, a huge army. – pondered Lord Mallister.

\- Yes. Listen, mylords. This battle will be against all prospects, they have better weapons, armor, more soldiers, more resources to use, we are really at a disadvantage, but this is the battle of our lives. Will we want to meet in the festive halls of the Old Gods and remember that while the goddamned put our culture and way of life in danger we sat down and did nothing? Will you want to be remembered as the lords who bowed, the ones who chose to accept the saddle and the halter? Or you will want to be reminded how those who put themselves in a calamitous situation and fought to the end can choose, for I know what my choice will be, even if my family is extinct, even if everything I love is destroyed, I still prefer it: die fighting and defending what I believe, than simply doing nothing and accepting a different culture, religion and way of life, make your choice my lords, now, and even if I have only a thousand men with me, I will still face these damn Andals with all the wrath of my being. - Tristifer had his eyes hard as icebergs while staring at his lords who listened intently, even after finishing the speech they were silent for several and several moments, it was Lord Blackwood who laughed out loud and walked forward falling on his knee.

\- Bah. There is the king I followed. You have brought us victory against the Arryn and renowned Andal lords, accompanied you in dozens of battles, and would rather die than bow to these andals, you will have the Blackwood spears and bows. – It seemed to have taken a weight off Tristifer's back, for that silence almost made him believe his lords might want to testify him, Blackwood's words not surprising, but they soothed his heart and soul.

\- Tsc. I'm too old to learn songs about Seven Gods or even memorize their names, or even adapt to this effeminate culture of these invaders, Seaguard's swords and shields are their king, Above the Rest we'll be by your side today and forever. – With the support of Blackwood and Mallister, the other lords soon fell back in support and that brought a smile to Tristifer's lips as a great emotion took over his heart, for even in that adverse situation his soldiers supported him and stood beside him.

The meeting took about half an hour between strategies and spying, but Tristifer soon closed it as he headed for the walls of his castle. He could see many soldiers already preparing for a march and the orders had not even been given, but they were veterans and knew their master, knew they would soon march. As he watched the men, as well as the women and children, Tristifer wondered how he could defeat that coalition of lords Andals, led by no less than one of the greatest lords of the Andal war, each battle made him a little afraid, but he could use them all something in his favor that gave him some peace of mind, although the battlefield was sometimes treacherous, most of the time he could control him, but in that moment ...

As much as he thought he saw no clear way to defeat that problem, at least he could think of nothing that would not require a miracle from the gods, but his experiences in life and war said that the gods did not perform miracles like this or even do that for free. If you wanted to win you would have to do it for yourself and using what you had available and the most you could do was pray for some very good idea.

**Days later.**

Oldstones buzzed with activity, preparing for war. At the gate a few men deposited large stakes in wagons to be marched. Elsewhere, archers trained with their bows while the commander gave instructions on maintaining the bows, for in recent days there had been countless small storms that made the weather wet and damaged the bowstrings.

Tristifer was on the balcony of his manor watching everything in his battle armor, there were about fifteen thousand, a good number, if it were not for having to face at least twice as many enemies, but in those days morale had been high, at least between the shallow and veteran soldiers, for their king had never lost a battle in his lifetime, being a legend in the Riverlands and beyond, was known as the Hammer of Justice and Andals Doom, a strong name he did not refuse, was useful in bringing terror to the heart of your enemies.

If his wife had been there, he would have laughed, but his beloved Helena had died a few years beside his stillborn, a severe blow to Tris's heart, who had only married when she was thirty, for nearly fifteen years of her life had been between wars and battles, with no time to devote to anything other than them or the management of their lands, Helena had been a balm during wars that seemed almost endless, she had given him her heir too Tristifer, but failed to generate others heirs, they had all died at birth, and though it hurt, he never ceased to love her for a moment, but he missed her at times, and that moment was one of those.

His heir was somewhere at the forefront alongside the boldest and most fearless young men, Tristifer had not been able to prepare him well because of the conflicts and feared that if he died prematurely his heir could not contain the tide of enemies, but swore to himself that if he won and came back alive, he would train him more for the duty he was to face in a few years when he succeeded him.

With one last look at the rooms he had shared with his late wife, he turned to the hallway and closely followed lancers from his house. As he crossed the corridors, he recalled moments of childhood, adolescence, and youth, remembered bad times and good times, remembered departed friends, situations, and more. It gave him more yearning for victory and a desire to return home and build a better future for all his lords and subjects, but first he would have to overcome his last obstacle and last enemy.

As he pointed in the courtyard, the troops began to roar his name in shouts of "Tristifer," "Hammer of Justice," "Doom of the Andals," as they slammed their weapons into shields or walls, making as much noise as possible which became deafening, but it was enough to raise a hand for all to stop at once.

\- Men. – started. – We are here to face the greatest adversity of our lives. I will not lie. Many of you may die, perhaps none of us will come back alive, but between us and these andals there is a big difference. We fight for our lands, our families, our daughters, wives, our friends, our gods, our people, while they want to come and destroy it, so it's up to us to show to each of them the fury of the men of Riverlands, and the wrath of the ancient gods on account of the atrocities they have committed. LET'S RUN THE RIVERLANDS OF RIVER BLOOD! - the king's roar was followed by all the troops that were there, while the shouts of "Mudd" filled the air sending waves of hope to the hearts of the present in such a way that they felt capable of facing even the gods of the Andals if Tristifer IV Mudd asked.

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**Let your comments.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi brothers. I am back with another updated chapter of this story. I really tried to remedy some of the problems mentioned by some and improve so that they can have a better engagement when reading.**

**I am still looking for a beta reader for this story, if anyone is willing to contact me.**

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**The Hammer of Justice II**

The long line of infantry slowly drifted down the Riverlands, the soldiers marched apathetically and morale was low, a few knights flanking the main body of the army serving as scouts and messengers between the king and troops. For nearly two weeks they were marching incessantly toward the Green Fork, this was the place they had chosen to fight the Andals, and they were coming toward them to battle. In theory his plan was moving as he wished, but apprehension still dominated his soul and body, he had not yet decided how to battle them, he hoped to receive more information from his scouts and spies so that he could devise a way to counteract the efforts of his. his enemies, but something told him that the information would not be at all optimistic.

The start of the march had been lively and high-spirited, but as the days went on the men became more discouraged, especially as rumors of a huge army of the Andals rose, and the fact that in their wake they destroyed everything, not sparing a single living soul in front of him, all this added to the fact that the other kingdoms could not contain the great tide of the hand.

Those blows hadn't been so painful for Tristifer, the worst three had come in recent days. The first was that Acorn Hall had been burned to the ground and only one baby left alive from house Smalwood, the next day was informed by a messenger from House Mooton that the army that Lord Walys Mooton had managed to muster could not come in support because it was isolated and unable to march, for dozens of galleons and handheld birds that were sighted near the Maidenpool, this had arrested the lord to his lands to prevent any invasion. Of all those hard blows that robbed his hopes, the worst had been received that morning and sent a wave of fear, fear and hopelessness among the troops, when the scout came breathless and scared he knew he should have called him for a private conversation, but the the man had fallen to his knees to report that house Bracken had joined the grandchildren and that they had burned Raventree Hall to the ground, as well as murdered Ben Blackwood of Lord Blackwood's younger brother.

The news had been plaguing her mind all day not knowing how to proceed or what to do with all those bad news, however, he had come too far to give up or return, also feared mass defections if she retreated to that critical point, so all he could do to do was to stand firm and strong so that men could find some solace.

– We will beat them Tristifer, do not let your confidence be shaken at this time, it is now that we need to be strong, especially you need to be confident and be strong, my friend. – Tristifer Mudd would recognize the voice of his only living friend anywhere, Benedict Keath, a proud Riverland lord.

In childhood, Tristifer and Benedict alongside Theo Blanetree and Myles Lychester had been best friends, his father had thought it a good idea that his son would grow up alongside heirs of other homes to strengthen ties, had worked out with the four. They were dreamy, daring, and lively boys who had no time to be children, for war took any chance on them. The death of King John II Mudd caused Tristifer to be crowned king before the rising tide in the Riverlands led by Clayton Blood Sword, the man known for his cruelty and exaggerated violence, Tristifer's first battle against him near the border with the Stormlands it had been a bloodbath, but they prevailed in the end. The Andal army, however, had not been defeated and Clayton tried to regroup with another smaller army, Tristifer forced march to prevent and falling in a blow was forced to battle, in that same battle Theo being the boldest of the four led the forefront to what had been a bloodbath. The battle was lost until fate came face to face with Tristifer and Clayton, and in duel, the talon did not prevail, perishing under his blade, it greatly shook the morale of the enemies that were overwhelmed by the bloodthirsty First Men. It was only hours later that he learned that Theo had fallen in an attempt to regroup the vanguard and join the main body; that day he no longer enjoyed war and battles, never failed to blame himself for his death that day.

– How can I? Everything is against us. Resources, troops, and now even my lords betray me to support the lords. – answered in a low voice, could not let his men see him without courage and discredited, they had to have faith at least until the last moment.

– You never let it affect you. – That was true, but at a time when he was young and full of strength, not old and facing the worst threat he had ever faced.

– Nothing we face compares this coalition of lords andals Benedict, I am already old and no longer the young man I once was I will soon be old for a war, the scars are the dozens on my body, and only one son separates my lineage of extinction. – He was allowing himself to be a little depressed at the moment before his friend, he hated being a grumpy old man, for it reminded him of his grandfather who complained of anything, however small, but Benedict did not seem moved by his self-deprecation.

– AND? Remember the Three Silver Kings? They outnumbered us and had defeated a number of our lords, just like that fool Durrandon and you defeated them in the most one-sided battle I have ever witnessed in my life. – He remembered that battle and the enemies in question, the Kings of Silver had been anointed by High Septon himself to conquer the Riverlands, a crowd had followed them, and many had sung Tristifer's defeat even before the battle, but the Bath of Blood, as the battle had become known, had been one of the greatest humiliations suffered by andals at Tris's hands.

– I hope that is correct, my friend. – The Green Fork stretched a few miles ahead, after arriving they would just have to set up camp and wait for the Andals to arrive, hoping they would have a few days to prepare their men for battle and devise plans to use the terrain to their advantage. With the constant rains falling over the Riverlands, he could use the damp terrain to contain the enemy cavalry and maneuver their heavier troops, but that could only work if the rain continued, though that was only a factor in his favor, besides the the fact that it had positioned its troops in a way that would have the sun on its back all the time making enemy visibility difficult.

– Where do you intend to arm the battle? – Benedict questioned.

– A few miles ahead, the scouts have located a very damp, muddy terrain near the Green Fork, and with the sun on our backs we can try something. – The friend only nodded, seeming to calculate the options that lay ahead of them, while thoughts were still floating, a horn was blown, indicating the return of a group of scouts, saw the formation of men riding along the column toward him. Their captain was Walderan Haigh a veteran knight, the man dismissed his men before approaching Tristifer, there was something in his eyes he could not make out, the stone-hard expression sent a shiver down his back like a foreboding.

– Your Grace. I returned from spying on the forces of the Andals. They didn't mind letting us in, they wanted to be seen by us and are making a big fuss wanting to be noticed. They seem to be suffering from the rains and mud, which makes them move more slowly, but unfortunately they seem to have robbed us of a march, as they are only one day from our position, the battle is very close. – the mischief that came to Tristifer's mouth was advanced by Benedict who cursed loudly, however, what worried the king more was that Walderan came directly to bring him the report not waiting for a meeting to be called, that indicated bad news, but did not think that the late-arriving arrivals were part of the reason.

– What are their numbers? – He avoided letting fear bleed into her voice, but the man's dry swallow and voice failure before speaking tumbled any hope she had that their numbers weren't that big.

– We counted forty thousand men, as well as septons, fanatics, and mounted men, but their cavalry is three times greater than ours. – If Tristifer had been struck by an arrow in the heart, he would not have been shaken as much as that news, could not form a sentence with that news, but could see that the old knight did not believe in a victory, at that moment was forced to give a demonstration of strength to man and try to instill some courage and hope in man.

– Fear not, you have fought beside me before, we will defeat these damn grandchildren and we can drink once more in the halls of Oldstones. Now go and return to camp drink and eat something, soon we'll have a battle to fight, I don't want one of the best men I have weak. –Haigh brightened slightly before heading quickly to the rear where the food carts were following the long march.

When they were alone Tristifer began to laugh hysterically, his body rattling violently on the stallion, Benedict followed him in uncontrollable laughter as the troops still moved slowly. The two friends stopped only several minutes later, when the hysteria passed, the two stared at each other, steel gleaming in their eyes and faces were masks of determination and firmness, any doubt seemed to have been set aside, but Tris knew that at that moment, under the circumstances he must show determination and strength, even if he felt himself swimming against the current.

– You can still retire if you want Benedict. – He smiled at his friend.

– I'd rather stay here and see how this battle against the Andals will take place.

– You know death awaits you if you stand by me in this battle.

– You remember we took an oath to follow you to death, as I am the only one alive to follow you to her, my friend. – Those words thrilled Tristifer, remembering his friends who passed away, it was at that moment that he thought of them, and also the memories of Helena that flooded his mind made him feel a strong determination to take over his core.

– Then we will meet death.

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	3. Chapter 3

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**The Bastard**

Night was almost falling, the archers were all together in the camp, their commander was William Blackwood, a distant cousin of Lord Blackwood, considered the best archer in the Riverlands. He had enlisted in Seaguard when Lord Mallister asked for volunteers to face the approaching threat of Andals, as he was an experienced hunter he had decided to enlist to help his people, he was a lover of the ancient gods and despised the Andals for burning the Sacred Woods. He would not accept converting to that foreign culture, even if his life was lost.

Most of the volunteers who had enlisted shared their thoughts, although some were more motivated by the urge to fight a war and have the opportunity to gain prestige and perhaps a better position. He understood that that war would not be about prestige, especially if they lost, all that awaited them was the ax or giving up everything they believed in, thousands of innocent people would suffer if they were defeated, because the Andals did not come for peace, if they disagreed with them, they killed and destroyed everything on the way.

The king of the Riverlands was the legendary Tristifer IV Mudd, who had defeated the Andals so many times in battle that he was known as the Doom of the Andals. Years ago he had defeated the Arryn house in the failed invasion of theirs, as a warning beheaded their king at Oldstones, seeing the Arryn's disgrace the andals had joined together, for they saw that Tristifer was not a common enemy, because one attack after another had been beaten back. After so many defeats, they gathered countless lords with the sole objective of defeating the legendary king who inhabited the lands of the rivers, and at that moment Mudd needed to prove again that he was a living legend.

Serving under the Mudd flag sent a great wave of euphoria to the young people, as they had heard their parents tell stories and tales about the famous battles, and if one could say something, they also felt a little euphoric about that situation, which was swept away afterwards a week marching. Even with all that initial euphoria I could see that the men were afraid and frightened, especially when the news of the size of the Andal army reached the ears of the troops, it was necessary for the captains to do a hard job of avoiding mass desertions, fear of death. The men were always with weapon in their hands and no one had been able to rest properly waiting for the waves to arrive, and if it were to be true, he would not have closed his eyes to sleep even if for a few minutes, even if he was used to longing hours awake to hunt.

The rain had been constant and had intensified in the last few hours, the cold froze the bones and moisture got into the clothes making everyone shivers and pray for a hot meal as well as blankets to protect them from the punishing climate. When looking at the sky it was possible to see that a great storm was coming, even if the torrential rain fell, which seemed to make it even worse, which had been a very welcome gift at that moment to delay the waves and allow them to have some time to get organized. The storm in the clouds seemed to mock them, as did the ancient gods.

War horns sounded causing a great commotion in the camp, many started to scream and point to some point on the horizon it was necessary to squeeze their eyes very hard and concentrate to see what was happening, until he recognized the flags he saw, they were the drains. Not only countless flags, but line after line that advanced, a sea of enemies formed, it was a great beast armed and ready to kill everyone, easily outnumbered and overlapped on the battlefield in an almost unreal way, sending chills through your spine. The captains started shouting orders trying to put the forces into battle, but soon it stopped gradually, as the Andals were not taking combat positions. The rain had intensified a lot in the last minutes, the thunder fell around in a terrible symphony to be heard, slowly they could see the enemies were forming a camp, and understood that when the rain subsided they would fight against that wave that had twice as much effort of size.

The whispers increased and I could hear whispers as well as some talking openly about deserting, in other times they would agree, but at that moment they could not go back, even if on the horizon only the end of all could be seen, I would still fight and if necessary embrace death as a friend.

"By the gods, I never saw an army this big, we will be crushed, it's not even a bastard." — before the joking nickname launched, he turned to find Fool Ethan, another Seaguard volunteer, he was a bankrupt hunter, half blind in his left eye and without hair, usually a despicable man. In a war he had no way of choosing the comrades he fought with, regardless of how miserable they were.

"If I was so scared, I shouldn't have left that crap that you call home, cowards who hid under their beds are enough." — replied venomously not paying an ounce of respect to the man who also did not deserve a leaky coin.

"Listen to Bastard, he's right you stinky old man, it's better to be crushed than to run away like a sneaky worm." — fired Hobb One-Legged, a volunteer who had come from the mediation of Golden Tooth, he was a decent man, limp in one leg, he kept complaining about the serious wound. The lame was better company if you could ignore that he only knew how to talk about his daughters and how he had been hurt, but generally a good man.

"Worms live to live another day." — was Ethan's reply, although not very confident, and he seemed scared, the man gave the impression that he wanted to dig a hole to bury himself, the situation was aggravated when a big hand fell on his shoulder.

"So run away, Ethan, but I heard old William ordering some of his best archers to keep watch over the night to fix deserters, with that stink of yours, I bet Sam Light Finger drops you before you take three steps out of camp. Don't let me stop a coward from trying to save his own skin, I just expected more courage from those who live by saying that he is the best archer in Seaguard and the surrounding area. " — that great man was Bill Goodbrook, a very distant cousin of Lord Goodbrook who was a humble and honorable man. Of all the nobles who had known him, he was certainly the most decent and manageable, he was also quite respected among the rest, as he was certainly one of the great ones handling the bow, even though the users of the weapon were generally considered cowards and a part army disposable. Days ago Bill had been recognized by the king himself for his skill, which made the other archers proud.

"And who said I want to run? I just found out one fact. Did you see the size of that Andal army? We have no chance against them." — if all that was not pathetic I would agree with the man, but to be lamenting about defeat or the number of enemies would only worsen the moods already so affected.

"You are a man without faith. We are led by Tristifer Mudd, I have been under his command on other occasions such as in Saltpans where we were outnumbered by three to one, of course I took that arrow in the leg ..." — to stop the man I argue aloud.

"We have an advantage over them then. There are so many enemies that we cannot miss our arrows, we can shoot many of them before the infantry arrive." — it was a failed attempt to lift the spirits of those gathered nearby. Everyone understood that death was closer to them than to the thousands of camels who waited anxiously to kill them.

"Oh! The night is upon us. I'll go to the stores at the rear to get us some hot drink and some blankets. I imagine that we will not be able to sleep tonight, so that we have a worthy farewell to this world, my fellow countrymen." — Bill spoke as he stood up.

Bill soon returned with drinks and blankets so thin that the rain ran through them like a hot knife in butter, but it was better than nothing, the drink warmed the bodies that once shivered with cold. That night they talked about each other's lives and told stories and folk tales from the Riverlands, the more the night fell, the more archers joined the group exposing their tales too. They had even rehearsed a song that soon died when they heard a muffled scream in the distance, no one commented, but everyone knew it was someone who had tried to desert during the night.

At one point the men were leaning on each other, most of them with sleepy faces and yawning, but none could close their eyes to sleep even for a second for fear that the rain would stop and the waves would advance to slaughter each one in the way. There were no more conversations, no murmurs, just the rain and the silence of the night with the brightness of the moon almost killed by the torrent of falling water, but it was at that moment that a lamplight flashed to reveal the face of none other than William Blackwood. The commander of the archers, wearing the traditional cape made of raven feathers, as well as the rest of the black attire that accompanied him, his hair was a disheveled mix of black, white and gray, his beard was gray, and the small scar on his eye It gave the man a wild look.

"Men wake up. Prepare to march." — The words took everyone out of the trance, but most men were confused, it was Bill who recovered the ability to think first.

"Are we going to march on the Andals, my lord?" — the question was asked in a way that sent a murmur among the men who fully awoke with the possibility of a battle in the next few minutes, but the apprehension was cut by the commander of the archers.

"We will not march on the waves, we will retreat." — the word made men agitate and be confused because they were ordered to go back instead of moving forward.

"Don't argue. Pack your things and get ready, lamps will be lit to guide you along the way."

From there, the men quickly began to dismantle the camp and prepare to leave according to their king's order. While they were doing as they were told, they wondered why they would retreat, it didn't make any sense, turning their backs on enemies had no logic. It was dawn when the army began to move, slowly as all armed forces were, I could see that they were heading towards the river, mainly due to the fact that the terrain became more muddy and difficult to walk little by little. The men talked quietly among themselves, most were equally confused, as they expected their king to order the advance on the troops of the Andals, but instead of retreating away from the enemies, some wondered if Tristifer had lost his courage and strength before that wave.

It was only when the sun came up and the rain began to think that the order to stop was given, the forces were not arranged and battle formation, on the contrary the stake cart parked in front of the troops, several and several men were called to the bank of the army. No one could understand what was happening, especially when hoes and pitchers were placed at the feet of the men were even more confused, from the middle of the main body Tristifer Mudd himself appeared, mounted on a strong, bay stallion.

"You will be divided into groups for an important mission." — the mysterious tone of voice made men more uneasy.

"What mission, my king?" — came the questioning of men.

"To dig."

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